


Winter Rose

by bloodyqveen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Death, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Non-Graphic Smut, POV Sandor Clegane, Parents Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Past Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Post - A Game of Thrones, Post - A Song of Ice and Fire, Post-Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, Post-War, Sandor Clegane & Arya Stark Friendship, Sandor Clegane Lives, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sweet Sandor Clegane, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyqveen/pseuds/bloodyqveen
Summary: How many regrets can a man have in his life?
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Winter Rose

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, a repost of one of my fanfics in English  
> if it's written weird, don't blame me

How many regrets can a man have in his life?  
Human existence is based on the choices that everyone decides to make. Choices that can radically change your life, for the better, or for the worse.  
Sandor Clegane found himself regretting every single choice of his life when he found it in pieces. The most notable was the abandonment of Sansa Stark, twice.  
It had been a mistake to leave without her after the Battle of the Blackwater, to leave her alone, a fragile frightened little bird locked in a cage, at the mercy of a disturbed boyfriend, a drunken queen and a demonic halfman. 

_"She married Tyrion Lannister"._   
_Sandor and Arya Stark had looked into each other's eyes, they both couldn't believe a single word of those men._   
_"I should have taken her away with me." Why he had told Arya, he couldn't explain. The stars were the only thing lighting up the night, cold as ever. Even if the girl had been cold, she would never have revealed it to him, just as he would have found no solution. (For Sansa he would light a fire, or he would hug her. Sansa, not her sister.)_   
_Arya didn't speak. He never did. He had taken his 'kidnapping' with little dignity, promised him that he would kill him in his sleep._   
_"I was going to take her away by force."_   
_"Like you did with me?"_   
_Sandor cashed and ignored. "I would have. But she was crying, she was afraid of me. I didn't have the courage or the patience to deal with her."_   
_"So you thought it best to leave her in the middle of the war. She could have died. Stannis could have won."_   
_"It didn't happen."_   
_"It didn't happen. And now she's married to the Imp. I don't know what's going through her mind now, but I think I know my sister to the point of knowing she would rather die than submit to a Lannister."_   
_With this Arya had closed the conversation, turning over in her cloak and turning away from him. Sandor didn't care. He remembered why he had decided to help little Stark; "Sansa would like her alive."_   
_Sleep was difficult for him, the thought of Sansa at the altar with the Halfman haunted him in his head. If he had been there, he would have taught the Freys the concept of the Red Wedding and they would have complimented him._   
_"That damn girl will be my death."_

He had inquired about the timetables of the ships leaving for Westeros. A spice trader had offered to give him a ride in exchange for ten dragons. It was a large sum to pay, but Sandor had worked day and night to earn it so that he could go home.  
He didn't trust that man. He was a young tyroshi, with blue-dyed hair and beard, and catamites wandered about in his ship. He was the kind of person Sandor would never do business with in normal times; but returning to Sansa had become too great a need to ignore, so that the tyroshi was negligible.  
Seven years had passed. Too many. Nothing could have mattered more than returning home. 

_"Was my lady looking for me?"_   
_"Don't call me that. You are not very credible, it almost seems that you are making fun of me."_   
_"All right, little bird." Sandor smiled, closing the door behind him. Sansa stood in front of him in the master bedroom that had once belonged to Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Her hair was perfectly neat even after the banquet, a wonderful red in the soft light of the few lighted candles. Sandor wanted to dig his fingers in and inhale the scent, but he kept his distance from her._   
_"Is it true, do you want to leave for King's Landing?" Sansa spoke bluntly._   
_"Yes. There is still something I have to do."_   
_"What would it be?"_   
_"Watching my brother die. And I have to be the one to kill him."_   
_"It is madness."_   
_"I know, but what does it matter? I have nothing to lose. It has always been my only purpose."_   
_Sansa looked strangely distressed._   
_"Is this what you meant earlier at dinner, when you told me there's only one thing that would make you happy?"_   
_Sore button. How could he tell her the truth? How could he say 'I was talking about you'?_   
_"Aye."_   
_Lying about feelings had always come easy for him. He has never felt love in his entire life, except for Sansa. He wasn't ashamed of it, he just didn't want to make it public; he knew it had to be a secret to keep to himself._   
_He wasn't enough, he wasn't right for her._   
_"And yet I thought you liked me. I was stupid." Sansa was speaking bitterly. "For all these years I thought there was something behind your behavior in King's Landing. You were always the only one who saved me, helped me, took care of me. You treated me differently than anyone else. I thought you fell in love with me, and I basked in this certainty for years, along with the hope that you would come back to me. 'He has feelings too,' I said to myself, 'he's a man like everyone else. If he ever could love someone, that someone would be definitely me.' And then you really come back to me, you survive the war, and now want to leave again."_   
_He had started to cry. Sandor couldn't see her cry. He approached her and pulled her to him, to hold her in a hug. They had never been this close; Sandor felt in another world._   
_"I thought I was important to you."_   
_"And you are, for the Seven Hells! Why the fuck do you think I tried to take you with me? Why should I have saved your sister, why I should have fought for your stepbrother, why I should have risked my life in a war that is not mine, if not for you? Look at me."_   
_Their eyes met._   
_"It's you."_   
_"What?"_   
_"The thing that could make me happy."_   
_Her lips overwhelmed him. She kissed him with a passion that left him astonished; she never expected it from Sansa._   
_They kissed repeatedly until they were out of breath. Sandor hadn't had time to realize it, that Sansa had already dragged him to the bed._   
_"You can't imagine how much I wanted you, Sandor."_   
_"Me too, little bird"_   
_He didn't give a fuck anymore._   
_He didn't care about his brother, or about the war, or the morality of their actions. He didn't care about the consequences, not while he stripped her of her mourning dress. She did the same._   
_"Gods, you're fucking beautiful"_   
_"You too."_   
_"That's not true, little bird. I'm just a scarred old dog and you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in the world."_   
_"You're none of that. You're the only man I've ever wanted and, really, I would have given you my virginity but I couldn't, so at least let me give all of me to you now. Forget the rest."_   
_She had left him no way to reply. She had drawn him to her by putting an end to their distances._   
_"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you to death." He told her with every kiss he left along her body. And Sansa moaned, held him, dug her nails into his back. "Gods, me too, Sandor."_   
_And Sandor could have died there, in her arms, inside her, with his nostrils full of his lemon scent and his head in the crook of her neck. He would have died happy, he would have died like a king. Instead he had made a very different choice, something that would cost him far more than he expected._

«We'll be in White Harbor in half an hour» the captain told him.  
Sandor sat on the bow of the ship and watched the coast approach. Finally, after so many years, he would return to the north. To Sansa!  
He still didn't know how he should behave when he see her again. He had too many things to tell, too many excuses to make. Maybe Sansa hated him, and that was right.  
She had even gone so far as to beg him about his departure. But Sandor had still had his way.  
The tyroshi sat down beside him, a carafe of wine in his hand, offering him some of it. Sandor drank after a long time. It tasted too strong and sour, or maybe he was just not used to it anymore.  
«So you're about to go home?»  
Winterfell was not his home; but Sansa is.  
He smiled to himself.  
«Aye. I come home to the woman I love.» 

_A lonely rose was rise among the sparse bushes in the Godswood. Where once there had been an imposing and wonderful wood, now the devastation caused by the battle of a few days ago reigned. It was in the Godswood that the Night King died at the hands of Arya._   
_Sandor had plucked the rose with his bare hands, heedless of the thorns scratching his hands. After having broken them from the stem, he had brought the flower to his beloved._   
_"Thank you"; she smiled shyly, as if she were still the little girl of King's Landing. This made Sandor smile and filled his heart with tenderness._   
_The moment Sansa knelt in front of the Weirwood Tree, Sandor had imitated her; although he was not a pious man, he had promised her that he should pray together._   
_He prayed silently for Sansa; he asked for all possible happiness for her. He asked to come back to her after his trip to King's Landing, to be able to live a life with her - even if he didn't deserve it, but he would make her happy! - and maybe to have a family. He was demanding justice, with the death of his brother Gregor. He asked for eternal peace for the fallen in battle, for his friends Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr._   
_As soon as he finished, he watched Sansa pray as well. She held her hands clasped and the rose resting on her lap. It had begun to snow lightly, and her hair and robe were dotted with small, fluffy white bows._   
_His eyes were closed, but Sandor knew they were red. That night, after giving herself to him several times, she had lain in bed with him. They had talked, recounting their adventures in the years they had been separated, and later Sansa had begged him not to abandon her for the second time. It had been very difficult for Sandor to refuse, to explain that he would have to leave, but he had made his decision anyway. Although he had cuddled her all night, trying to reassure her by telling her he would come back to her, in reality Sandor knew Sansa wasn't really convinced of this._   
_If only Sandor had known what was going to happen, he wouldn't have left her._

His feet hit the ground. The land of the North. He thanked the tyroshi and continued his journey on foot. He might find a horse along the way, but it was the least of his thoughts right now. The road from White Harbor to Winterfell wasn't that long, and Sandor would be able to cover it on foot within days.  
It was strange for him to be there after all this time. It seemed like an eternity since the day he left the castle behind, followed by Arya. Since then, everything had happened to him.  
He had found his brother and killed him, pushing him off a tower straight into a sea of flames. Sandor had been wounded and blinded by the battle, but still made it out alive. He had found a group of Dothraki soldiers, once belonging to the Dragon Queen, and had been welcomed and helped by them. They had taken him with them to Vaes Dothrak to be healed by the wise old women of the Dosh Khaleen, and they had restored his strength and sight.  
After crossing the Dothraki Sea to the south and following the course of the Skahazadhan he reached Meereen, where a war was underway. He had been taken prisoner and thrown in the middle of a war between the towns of Slaver's Bay, with Yunkai, Ghis and Astapor. Finding himself on the wrong side of the army, he "lost" the war and was taken prisoner by the yunkai, only to be enslaved along with the rest of the survivors 'and this is the liberation from the slavers, right, Daenerys Targaryen?'  
Embarked on a ship, he was taken to Volantis to be sold to a company of mummers, which went as far as Braavos. There he had fled, finding temporary refuge in a strange temple of the Many-Faced God frequented by even stranger people. He had spent a couple of months in that city, working as an apprentice fisherman, so that he could earn the salary that would pay him the trip to White Harbor.  
Retracing it all, his story seemed almost a joke, a paradoxical story, magnified to make everything more exaggerated. But Sandor knew that if in her heart she continued to love him, Sansa would believe him. 

His journey took four days on foot, thanks to his willpower. He slept and ate little, stopping only in the darkest hours of the night.  
He arrived at the gates of the Winterfell palace when was late afternoon; the guards stopped him, crossing their spears to block the way and looking him up and down.  
They were undoubtedly men of the North, a judge by their not too abundant clothing - if they had been from the South, they would wearing a mountain of clothes to keep warm, not being used to the heavy winter climates of the North.  
They asked him who he was, and he said he wanted to see the lady of Winterfell. This caused angry expressions on their faces.  
«The Queen in the North has no time to waste with beggars. It's winter, food is scarce even in the palace» one of them explained.  
Sansa had become Queen, Sandor thought. He suppressed a smile, but felt joy and pride in him; since childhood, Sansa had wanted to reign. But King's Landing, the South, was not her home, so the government of the North was effectively the life reserved for her.  
«Please warn Her Highness of my presence. I'm Sandor Clegane.»  
«You can be whoever you want» said one of them «we hardly allow anyone to enter.»  
Sandor was impatient, he had had enough of those guards. If only he had been the man he once was, he would have pulled out his longsword and killed them both in one blow. But now he was just a damned poor man, weak, tired and just eager to hug his Queen. And killing her guards wouldn't be the best way to get back to her after seven years.  
«Please» he pleaded, putting his pride aside. For Sansa it would have been worth it. «Tell Sansa I'm back. She will want to see me. She's been waiting for me for years.»  
The two men threw a strange knowing look at each other, their bold expressions had changed.  
«I'm sorry for you, my friend» the other man spoke up «maybe you missed something. Queen Sansa passed away six months ago. Now it is her daughter who reigns.»  
The world collapsed under Sandor's feet. He fell to his knees unwittingly, unable to control his body anymore. He would cry, scream, swear. He would have drawn his sword and killed the entire population of the universe. Or maybe, it would have been enough to plant it on his heart. But he couldn't move, he couldn't speak.  
Sansa was dead.  
He had come all this way, passed all this for nothing.  
He had spent seven years of hell, of work, toil, anxiety, panic, despair, for nothing.  
He had spent a lifetime chasing the woman he loved, he had lost her, found her, then lost her again; this time forever.  
The hopes he had harbored of returning to hug her turned out to be useless, just bullshit.  
And how was he going to live?  
He would never hear her crystalline laugh again. He would never kiss those damned lips again. He would never look into her blue eyes again, which always let all her emotions shine through. He would never run his fingers through that soft, straight red hair again.  
He would never see her at the altar with him. He would never see a life grow in her womb. He would never find her in his bed again, close to him, waking up in the morning. He would never hear her sing Florian and Jonquil's song again.  
However...  
"now it's her daughter who reigns".  
One of the guards shook his shoulder.  
«Everything is alright?»  
«How old is she?»  
A strange thought buzzed in his head.  
«Who?» the man asked.  
«The child.»  
«Her Highness Queen Rose is six.»  
Six years.  
Six years, and a nine-month pregnancy.  
Sandor stood up, the movement continued to be involuntary, as if his body was moving by itself.  
«Let me see her. Immediately.»  
Maybe the guards saw something in his eyes that frightened them, maybe they too had started asking questions to themselves, the fact is that they let him pass without a fuss.  
He strode across the courtyard. On his head he could feel the falling of small flakes of snow, but the winter was now ending. As he passed a group of boys who were training under the eyes of the weapons master, he felt the curious looks on him, but he didn't pay much attention.  
He found a Maester at the entrance to the palace; he asked him to accompany him to the Queen. He followed the Maester, a short old man, hunched over by the weight of his Chain, up the stairs that led to the Queen's apartments. He led him to the bedroom door, the same one that had belonged to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, the same that had belonged to Sansa - and, for one night, where Sansa had belonged to him - and now to her daughter after she.  
The old Maester knocked on the door and a small child's voice answered.  
«Come in.»  
The Maester opened the door and appeared at the threshold. «Your Highness, a man urgently requests to see you.»  
«Who is him?» She looked tired. «If he's some Lord, or one of the people have come to complain about the lack of food, say him can wait.»  
«No, Your Grace. He's a man who came to discuss personal matters with you. He introduces himself as Sandor Clegane.»  
There was a moment's pause, then a «let him in.»  
The Maester let Sandor pass, then took his leave with a nod from his Queen.  
For the first time, Sandor saw her. She was so small...  
Her hair was styled in two long dark braids; the same brown as Sandor. The eyes were her mother's, big and blue like the sea. She was dressed in a simple light dress, a direwolf sewn over it. She was sitting on a chair, on the table in front of her was the crown of the North, depicting two crossed direwolves. The table was strewn with candles, some books, wax, parchment, ink, quills, and a map of Westeros held open across the surface.  
The little girl (the Queen!) got up, slowly coming towards him. Sandor had no idea what to say. Fortunately, she saved him from further discomfort.  
She hugged him. She barely came up to his waist, but she still put her arms around his back. Sandor simply held her close.  
When she pulled away, she had tears in his eyes. Blue eyes like her mother.  
Sandor knelt in front of her - not out of respect for the Queen, but to stay up to her.  
«You know me?»  
«My mother has talked to me about you all her life. I know your scars.»  
The mention of Sansa again hurt Sandor's heart. She noticed it.  
«She loved you» she continued. «She loved you like no one else in the world. And I know you love her too.»  
«I love her. And I don't wish I was here so late. What happened?»  
«After giving birth she got sick. Six months ago she contracted a fever, which, frail as she was, took her away.»  
«I wish I was there with her.»  
«I know.» She hugged him again. Only then did Sandor notice the medallion she wore around her neck: it depicted a hound, a little bird and a rose.  
«Rose...»  
«She kept a dried rose in a case throughout her pregnancy and even after my birth. Now I have it» she pointed to a small glass case, placed on a shelf that Sandor hadn't noticed. «She says you got it for her before you left.»  
Sandor smiled «she has always been an incurable romantic.»  
Rose took his hand. Hers was tiny compared to his. Even with Sansa it was like that.  
«You will have been through many adventures over the years.»  
«Much more than you can imagine.»  
Rose chuckled «mom told me that your reason for leaving was to go kill your brother. You did it?»  
«You can bet on it.»  
They laughed together, accomplices.  
Rose walked away from him, went to the door and called Maester Jeric. Meanwhile, Sandor got up.  
«Tonight you will tell me everything. I will prepare a banquet in your honor.»  
«Rose» Sandor objected «I've been told there is little food. You shouldn't do that for me.»  
«I'll have the best of what's left of the supplies prepared. Winter is about to end now, and the people deserve a proper dinner after a long time. Besides, they must know» she smiled «everyone must know that my father has come home.»  
Sandor was moved.  
He had found his daughter. No one would ever take her away from him. Little by little, his life was starting to make sense again.  
He would never have his Sansa back. Sansa was gone by now, but he would see her again the day he died. He would see her again, but not today, and not in the years to come. He had a daughter to live for, a daughter of his own, born from the womb of the woman he loved. And Rose had her eyes.  
He was about to thank her when Master Jeric returned to the room. His little Queen gave orders to have the banquet prepared for her father's return. The old Master was initially shocked, but then he gave a slight bow and a smile.  
«Welcome home, my lord.»  
«I'm not a lo-»  
Rose interrupted him «Maester Jeric, also have my father's quarters prepared, with a bathroom and some clean clothes. He needs to settle down for tonight.»  
«Sure, Your Highness. If my lord wants to follow me.»  
He left the room, waiting for Sandor in the corridor.  
Sandor gave his daughter a surprised look.  
Lord!  
But did he deserve it?  
«Rose...maybe, I shouldn't-»  
«Don't contradict your Queen.»  
Then she burst out laughing, and after a few moments Sandor followed her.  
«All right, Your Grace» he said, bowing to his daughter.  
He crossed the room. He was about to cross the threshold when Rose called him.  
«Dad.»  
Sandor turned to look at her. He saw hope in the form of blue eyes.  
«Thanks for being here. I missed you.»


End file.
